


Tempting Timing

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Series: Exquisite Red [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam leaves for California. Sam leaves Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempting Timing

“I can’t.” Dean words are barely a whisper, hardly audible even in the silence of the house. He tenses as Sammy’s face goes cold and hard, the look he gets right before he blows. 

 

“You can. You just won’t. Because of  _ him _ .” 

 

Sam’s anger toward their father was no secret. Every hunt he dragged them on put Dean in danger and kept them apart; Sam wasn’t appreciative of either of those things. 

 

“You know I can’t . . . I can’t live a normal life, Sam. I can’t  _ be _ one of those people.” 

 

Sam had gotten into college, his acceptance letter glaring up at them from the bed. He wanted Dean to go with him, run away from Dad and the life and the road. 

 

“I wouldn’t want you to be,” Sam says, dangerous-soft. “I want you, I want my brother; don’t talk like I don’t know who and what you are, Dean. It’s not like I’m any better, any different.” 

 

“Yeah, but you’re talking like we can just, I don’t know, settle down, be a normal couple. We’re fucking  _ killers _ Sam. The police, the FBI, they’d be on our tails in no time. Remember I told you never-” 

 

“-the same place more than once. I’m not stupid, Dean. We could travel, could hunt, find whatever girls or guys we want.” 

 

Dean’s shaking his head before Sam even finishes. “M’sorry, Sammy. We just can’t.” 

 

* * *

 

Dean thinks maybe Sam has given up. After more arguments and a flat-out brawl that Dad had nearly tanned their hides for, Sam hasn’t brought up the topic of California since. 

 

He should have known better. 

 

Dad had come home late last night, and proceeded to get blindingly drunk. He’d slurred about a kid he hadn’t been able to save, a sandy-haired, green-eyed boy who’d been ripped to shreds, clinging to Dean until he’d finally passed out on the couch. 

 

That’s where Dean finds him when he gets home from the store. That’s where Dean finds Sam, knife clenched in his hand as he looks down at their sleeping father, face eerily calm and that dark spark bright in his eyes. Dean drops the groceries to the floor, not caring if the eggs break or the milk busts open. He’s on Sam in an instant, dragging his brother back toward the hallway, wrenching the knife out of Sam’s hand. 

 

He doesn’t realize that he’s screaming until Dad sits up, staring at them with bloodshot eyes. 

 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

 

Dean’s not sure how it happens, how screaming at Sam about trying to kill their dad turns into both him and Dad screaming at Sam for leaving for college. It feels like a truck hits Dean when Sam declares his bags are packed, that his bus leaves his afternoon, and it’s up to Dean whether he comes or not. His words bring the fight to a screeching halt. 

 

Dad looks from Sam to Dean, shocked and agonized, and Dean can’t even stop the words from coming out. “Sammy. I can’t.” 

 

For a second, Sam looks like he’s going to cry. Then he’s launching himself at Dean, getting grabbed by Dad until all three of them are in a tangle of shouting voices and swinging limbs. Sam fights like a man possessed, ruthless and every bit the soldier their dad had brought him up to be. He gets away, leaving the other men just as bruised and bloody as he is and grabs up a duffel bag waiting by the door. 

 

“You walk out that door, you better never come back,” Dad grits, eyes steely as he stares down his youngest son. 

 

“I don’t plan on it.” Then Sam’s gone, and Dean’s stiff with shock. His cheek aches where Sam had clocked him, mouth bloody from his brother-lover’s fist, and Sam is nowhere in sight when Dean gets himself together to scramble out the door. 

 

Dad’s yelling at him as he peels away from the rental, barrelling down the road toward the nearest bus stop. He pulls in just in time to see the bus pull away. Scrabbling at the door handle, Dean practically falls out of the car, hacking up bile as panic climbs up his throat. 

 

He tries to call Sam every day for a week after, until the automated system picks up and says  _ We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.  _

 

_ Goodbye.  _


End file.
